The Faces of Men and Monsters
by fall12fall
Summary: One day, in a fit of despair, Erik wishes away his disfigurement. He never imagined, though, that someone else would have to bear his burden. Erik x OC.
1. Wishing Away the Facade

Everything is cold, it always is, . . . Everything always was. But for a few moments life had been warm, when _**she **_was here. As I remember her face, the warmth comes back, but the picture fades, so does the warmth.

A fine mist had settled over the lake, it obscured my vision as I rode across. I didn't know where I was going, or why I would leave my house across the lake. My body seemed to know where it wanted to go and I let it. What was the use of stopping myself? Having someone see me would be the usual fear that kept me underground, but after Chris- I mean, **_she,_**left me for the vicomte, life seems pointless. Nadir visited me occasionally along Darius, but neither of them loved me, no, to them I was more like a child that must be kept in check.

My hand turned a doorknob and a gust of cold air hit me as the door to the roof opened.

She had loved me once, even if it had only been for a few short hours, yes, she had loved me. She had basked in my presence when I was here Angel of Music and had swooned in my arms as I serenaded her when I first brought her down to my lair. Oh yes, she had loved me, but my monster of a face had gotten in the way. I stood on the very edge of the roof and looked down below at all the normal, living with their normal families, leading their normal lives. For I don't know how long, I stood there, took off my mask, and contemplated as I looked down. How wonderful my life would have been had I been born with a face like everyone else's. My mother would have loved me, I never would have been on display in Javert's freak show. Oh, what joys would have been mine, even before she came into my life.

Again I looked down at the mask and a hot burning anger exploded inside of me as I thought of these things. How I wish my face would just go away. I don't care where it goes as long as it went away from me. Yes, I know wishing is a childish thing, but what else was there to do?

How I wish it would go away!

And with that thought, I flung the mask off the roof.

Suddenly, a great pain exploded in my head and everything turned dark.

* * *

Something rough assaulted my face and persisted to get me wet. I pushed it away from me and it whimpered. I opened my reopened my eyes and saw a small nicely furnished bedroom and a big dog sitting in front of me.

"Sasha?" I asked out of astonishment. I immediately covered my mouth, surprised by the childish sound that emitted from my lips.

I began to wipe Sasha's slobber off my face and I couldn't believe what I felt. My cheeks felt smooth to the touch and I actually felt a nose on my face. I saw a full length mirror in the corner of the room and I dashed to it. I stood there and just stared at my perfectly formed face.

"Erik! Get down here! Your breakfast is getting cold!"

I recognized my mother's voice and stood there, paralyzed in fear. Soon, I heard her footsteps coming up the stairs. She saw me and her face softened when she saw me.

"Still in your pajamas?" she bent down and gave me a small kiss on the forehead. "Silly boy, go get dressed and come downstairs to eat your breakfast." She then went back downstairs.

Slowly, without thinking, I got dressed and headed downstairs. I'm sure I had the biggest smile on my face. I am most certainly going to take advantage of this miracle.

* * *

**Thank you for starting to read this story. I've been working on this idea foe awhile and I would love to hear any questions, comments, or concerns you have regarding this story or any others. Read and review. Thank you.**


	2. Between 15 Years

It has been 15 years since I had apparently wished away my disfigurement.

At first, I hadn't believed that this miracle could happen to me. I had thought that I had gone mad with grief and that my mind was playing tricks on me. But, my mother had loved me like I had been any other child. She had sent me to school like a normal child as well, this I absolutely detested. I remember everything from my past life so I did not need any schooling. Often, I would find myself daydreaming in class about my past life. More than a few times, I have tried wishing away my memories of my past life, but those seemed destined to stay.

"Oh, look at it Erik!" Christine exclaimed in delight as she tugged on my arm.

After I had realized that I no longer had my disfigurement, I had begged my mother to let me take a trip to the small town where Christine lived in. After no small amount of begging and pleading, she had agreed to the trip. When we had gotten there, I realized that if I was only 10, then Christine would not have even been born yet. As you could probably guess, this sent me into an impenetrable cloud of gloom. This, of course, drove my mother mad, but I couldn't help it.

On the last day, mother made us go on a walk by the sea. Something red flew by my head while we walk and I caught it before it was whisked off to sea. Someone then rammed into me and proceeded to squeeze both the air and life out of me. Then the person let go and it ended up being a very thankful Christine and the object that I had caught was her scarf. Raul then passed by without a second glance.

Of course I had been surprised that she was there and that I was only a few years older than her. I was going to question why this was, but they say you shouldn't question life's gifts, so I try not to think about it.

When my vacation ended, Christine and I sent letters to each other letters. She's 16 now and I'm 21 and I am most happy to be the man courting her,

Another event that seems to have been sped up is the building of the opera house. The plans for the building were finalized when I was 15, I was still a minor so they wouldn't allow me to be an officially architect on the project. Of course, when had that ever stopped me in the past? I would slip my own plans to the builders and no one noticed until the contractors came to inspect the building. By that time though it was too late to change the plans without tearing down everything that had already been built, so things continued on according to my design.

When I turned 20, I applied to be the manager of the opera house. Of course it's merely a social popularity contest, but people are easily bribed and it was hardly a problem. Today was the grand opening to the public and we would be giving a performance of Othello, followed by a masquerade ball.

Christine and I were sitting in box 5, which I legally reserved. The music soon died and the house gave a standing ovation to our cast.

I looked down at Christine and she looked up at me.

"Come, Christine, let's go get changed before the masquerade begins."

She smiled, "Yes, let's,"

* * *

**I know you all want to know what happened to his disfigurment, but that is for another chapter.**

**If you have any questions, comments, concerns, or compliment for this chapter, story, or anything else, please leave a comment in reviews. Thank you.**

**Thank you for reading, reviewig, and following this story. It makes me so happy.**


	3. The Masqurade and After

"Are you finished changing yet, Christine?"

"Almost!" she called through the door. "Just imagine how long it would have taken me if I had been in costume." Christine would usually be our Prima Donna and leading soprano, but she had said that it would have taken her too long to change from her Othello costume to her masquerade dress.

Soon, she walked out in her fairy princess costume. She had tried to get me to dress to match her, but there was nothing anyone could do to get me to dress like a colorful, froufrou fairy. Of course I didn't say that to Christine, I had told her that I already had a costume picked out. When she asked me what it was, I told her it was a surprise. I didn't really have a costume picked out. I debated going as Red Death, but I decided that it would be best to dress in a deep blue costume as the King of the Sea.

Christine emerged from the dressing room and we hurried to the foyer.

When we arrived, the party was already in full swing. People were dancing in the middle of the room and talking by the refreshments. All the important people in society were there, the chief of police, the ambassador, officials of state, and the headmaster of the Academy of Music along with many others.

Christine grabbed my hand and dragged me into the crowd of dancers. We danced for a few songs, but I had to pull away to greet the guests.

I first greeted the current Magistrate of Music who gave me a resounding congratulation for the theater's debut performance. Next, the Chief of Police, someone I know I would have wanted help from had I been manager during my reign as opera ghost. Then, after greeting other party goers, I stood by the refreshments and poured myself a glass of wine.

So many people had congratulated me on the performance, so I didn't think anything was out of the ordinary until an all too familiar voice started talking to me.

"Congratulations on the debut performance, sir."

I glanced over, and there stood Nadir, acting as if nothing was any different from the last time I had seen him.

"Um, … ye-yes. Thank you." was the only reply my mind could come up with. The man always seems to know everything and it sets me on edge. It took me a bit to remember that he, along with Christine, didn't remember our past lives at all.

Nadir looked up at me after I gave my weak reply. "Why do you always act so guilty, Erik?"

My world suddenly halted. He does remember!

He then blinked and shook his head. "I'm sorry, I don't have the slightest idea what I'm talking about. I have only just met you."

"Th-that's okay. I've been told my face has a familiar look to it. Please excuse me." I then removed myself from the conversation and walked to my office.

So Nadir didn't remember me then. That was a huge relief. He always has been perceptive, perhaps that's why he had almost remembered me.

Never the less, our encounter had scared me half to death and I needed a moment to myself.

Slowly, I closed the door to my office and sat behind my desk. Sipping my wine and taking deep breaths helped to calm my racing heart and mind. I popped my head out of my office door and told a passing attendant to start dismissing guests. Christine was also passing by and I told her that I would not be able to walk her home to her flat. She protested, but I told her that I had some business for the opera house that I had to attend to. I called her a carriage and saw her off.

I closed my office and door because I really did have to do some work, mainly budgeting for costumes, props, and salaries for the opera.

I wearily sat down at my desk and looked at the pile of paperwork that sat atop it. When I picked it up, a letter fell onto the floor. Bending down, I picked it up and saw an ornate wax seal a 16th note. There was no return address, the only thing that was on the front was my name. The fact that the letter had no return address and my full name on it was both intriguing and worrying.

Using a letter opener, a opened it and extracted the letter. It read-

My dear Manager,

What a splendid performance!

Othello has never been so wonderfully done. May I point out, though, that not having our regular Prima Donna sing on opening night is not the wisest idea, having a drunk gas man is detrimental to a performance, and not seeing guests off yourself is the mark of a lazy manager. For tomorrow night's performance, may I suggest seeing the last act cleaned up; the strings could use some synchronization there.

Do you know how much critics are paid? It's quite a lot, I'll have you know. Perhaps I'll have to keep this up, all for the good of the opera, you know.

Your obedient servant,

O.G.

Opera Ghost

* * *

**Who would have the gall to send this?**  
**Someone with a puerile brain**

**(Firmin)**  
**These are both signed O.G.**

**(Andre)**  
**Who the hell is he?**

**(Both realizing)**  
**Opera Ghost!**

**A NOTE! **

**Thank you for all of the reviews, I didn't think that I would get so many!**

**If you have any questions, comments, or concerncs about this chapter, story, or anything else, please leave a review.**

**Thank you.**


	4. Ghost Hunting

I stood at the top of stairs leading down to the basement. The next, day after receiving the letter, I summoned an inspector to my office and showed him it. He had said that it was merely a letter made in jest and that had no threat in it, even though it hints at extortion, but I know that it would soon follow.

After reading the letter, I had immediately gone down to the basement to sniff out this imposter.

I had gotten down to the third basement without problem, when suddenly I fell into a circular room. It was not unlike my old torture chamber, except that there were no mirrors lining the walls and there was no iron tree with a pre-tied noose ready for its unfortunate occupant. As any sane person would do, I searched for an exit for goodness knows how long. I scrupulously searched both the ground and the ceiling, even trying to open it the way I had my chamber, but this was all to no avail.

Some time passed with me just sitting there, annoyed at my situation, when a door suddenly opened. It lead to stairs that went up to the second basement.

Going back stage, I questioned some stagehands that had gone down there last night to store backdrops. They said they had gotten down there and back up with no problems.

That was all a month ago and I'm no closer to finding out who had sent me the letter. This mysterious sender hadn't, in truth, sent me any more letters, but I knew, from personal experience, that it was a false hope to think that one note was the last there would be of this ghost.

Tonight was the last performance of Othello and I feared that the new ghost would soon start demanding his payment.

I lit up the gas lamp that I had brought with me and started my descent to the basement.

Like the past time, I was able to make to the third cellar with no difficulties whatsoever. From my past experience I knew where some traps were, these I avoided. Soon, I stood in front of the door that led to the door to the fourth basement.

Not being able to make it this far down before, I scrutinized the floor while walking so I could distinguish catches for traps. I walked carefully until I arrived at the fifth cellar's door.

Ecstatically, I opened it and received a falling sensation.

The fall was not far and soon I was hanging upside down. Ropes bound me and I could do nothing but hand there and wait for someone to stumble upon me.

People can only hang upside down so long, though, before they lose conciseness.

Soon, my vision started to fade and my eyes were slowly closing. But before I was completely gone, I saw a pair of feet clad in black shoes and workman's pants.

Then I was gone.

When I awoke, I was back in my office, with another letter.

My dear Manager,

You are a very persistent and difficult man.

I have a strict policy about not hurting people, no matter how much trouble they cause me, so I shall give you this warning,

You can count me as a friend or an adversary.

I've tried to help you, pointing out performances; something comes to mind about biting the hand that feeds.

I hope you have the sensibility to not venture down again.

Your obedient servant,

O.G.

Opera Ghost

I slammed down the letter and leaped from my chair. **_I_** was the original ghost, **_me_**, not this silly imposter! **_I'll _**be giving the orders around here!

Filled with rage, I marched back down to the cellars, uncaring of the supposed consequences this maniac posed. I don't know who he is, most likely a person from my past, but he would most dearly pay for haunting me!

I marched down the cellars. 1, 2, 3, 4, only the fifth remained.

Avoiding the trap that I had fallen into earlier, I ran though, uncaring and annoyed at the ghostly nuisance. Traps were sprung, but I was running so fast that I was not caught.

Finally, I arrived at the shore of the underground lake. I had made my abode on the opposite shore, but I hadn't a clue where this thorn in my side was hiding. For all I knew, this ghost may not even be living in the opera, but if traps were set in the basement, it pointed to his hideout.

While I stood by the shore and debated my next course of action, I could just barely hear footsteps sound behind me. I stood still until I was absolutely sure that the person was behind me. Then I turned around. All I could see was a flat, white, full face mask before he quickly choked me. I tried to retaliate against his attack, but I was years out of practice. He easily throttled me until I, yet again, lost conscious.

* * *

**Erik sure seems be biting off more then he can chew.**

**I absolutly love hearing all of your guesses! It lets me know that people are interested in my story.**

**If you have any qauestions, comments, and/or concerns about this chapter, story, or anything else, please leave a review. **

**Thank you**


	5. The Ghost

Getting the air choked out of you is not a pleasant thing, and when one wakes up from a sleep brought about by this unpleasant event, they are severally disoriented.

When I did wake up, everything was out of focus and I shut my eyes until the world stopped spinning. Just lying down helped.

While lying there, I heard two voices talking. One sounded like Nadir, with his soft Persian lilt. The other voice was decidedly feminine voice, though I could not tell who it belonged to. Both their soft voices and the smell of burning spices floated through the air and created a soothing atmosphere.

Slowly, I opened my eyes to a lit fireplace. I adjusted myself on the well-worn couch that I had been placed on and the voices stopped. Soon, the two people who were talking walked into my vision. One was Nadir, like I had guessed. The other voice belonged to the man who had knocked me out. He was a few wearing the white face mask as well as a women's long black wig. Also, his chest was, how to explain it, looked rather like a women's.

"He's awake!" stated Nadir.

"Well, he was going to wake up sooner or later." stated the other man.

Nadir looked annoyed at him. "I thought that we agreed that we were going to bring him back to his office before he woke up."

"That obviously didn't happen."

Now Nadir was really annoyed. "This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't sent him those letters."

"I would not have sent the letters if you hadn't bet me I wouldn't.… You still owe mw 50 francs, by the way."

The Persian started getting to the point where you could almost see a tiny little vain popping out of his head.

The other man smiled, "Too late for that now. I could always knock him out again, if you think it wiser."

"I'm rather adverse to that idea." I interjected.

The two of them were very startled that I had talked, but the second man brushed it off quickly. "Take him up to the surface then, but be sure to blindfold him first." He then walked off to another room.

Nadir sighed and took a handkerchief out of his pocket. "It's either this or her stipulation."

"Her?"

He looked puzzled for a moment, then realized what I had asked. "As much as she dresses and acts like a man from time to time, she's still a girl." Then, he blindfolded me and lead me up many flights of steps to my office, where he left me.

* * *

**THE GHOST!**

**I hope that it wasn't obvius that this was going to happen, but someone did you the pronoun she in a review.**

**If you have any question, comments, and/or concerns about this chapter, story, or anything else, please leave a review.**

**Thank you. **


	6. the Ghost's Conversation

Three days have passed since that incident. No letters, strange accidents, or anything that most people would consider out of the ordinary happened.

Mercier, the stage manager, gave me the cast list for Faust so I could look it over. Quickly, I glanced it over, mostly to make sure that Christine was casted as Marguerite. When this was done, I handed the list back to him.

"Thank you, sir." he said, "Will you be leaving soon?"

"No, I still have some business to attend to tonight, I will lock up. Have a nice night."

"You as well, sir." Then he left.

I didn't really have any business that needed to be done that night, but I was planning on staying the night to see if I could meet the ghost without receiving bodily harm. Soon I locked my office and went down to the stage. Sets for the old opera were in the process of being put in storage while half finished ones were being put up. When people had left for the day, I dragged out a piano to the middle of the stage to play.

When I had tried to go seek out the ghost's hiding place, I had gotten hung upside down until I lost consciousness, locked in a room until someone unlocked it for me, and had the air choked out of me and I have no intention of having any of that happen again. This time, I had gone down to the third basement and left a note at the forth basement's door, asking his- I mean- herpresence on the stage.

I sat down at the piano and began playing, starting with a warm-up middle C scale.

I don't know why this person was haunting me. It could be any number of things, but I would be surprised if it didn't have to do with my past. Why was she haunting me though? What had I done to her? I didn't recognize her. Should I have?

The notes became faster and faster, developing into a horrendously angry melody.

Was she planning to get back at me by taking something? The opera? My life? Christine? Did she actually think that I would let her take these things without a fight? Well, she was very, very wrong.

The melody's angry undertone now blasted into an aria from Don Juan Triumphant!

Oh, yes, she was very wrong indeed! She has no power over me! **NONE!** She would pay dearly for even beginning to think she could crush me!

"It would take a skilled hand to craft a piece such as that, but I hope you'll excuse me when I say that I would prefer a more peaceful melody."

I suddenly stopped my playing and turned my attention to the corner where the voice that had come from. The girl stood there and looked at me, she was wearing a stagehand's clothes with her black wig tied in a bun and the same white full face mask still plastered to her face.

"What melody would you prefer?"

She thought for a moment, "Mozart's Eine kleine Nachtmusik in G."

I began the melody and she walked a few steps out of the shadows.

"What is your name?" I asked, trying to begin to get some information out of her.

"What's yours?"

"James."

"And I'm King George the III."

"All right, it's actually Edward."

"Queen Victoria."

"Charles."

She gave an angered huff. "Is there a point to this game or the reason you called me here?"

"Yes. There's method to both."

"Then let's play straight."

Now I was very annoyed if I hadn't been before. "Erik."

"Evangeline." I could see nothing but her eyes, but at the very least her voice sounded softer. "May I ask the reason you called me here?"

"Yes, I wanted to talk to you about the opera."

"Othello or Faust?"

"The opera in general."

"Oh?" she cocked her head to the side.

"What do you plan to do with the opera house?"

"Well, as manager, I believe that it's your job to decide, not mine."

"In the first letter you sent, you specifically stated," I pulled the letter out of my pocket, "'Do you know how much critics are paid? It's quite a lot, I'll have you know. Perhaps I'll keep this up,' This makes it sound like you might have the idea in your head to send me more of these patronizing letters and use extortion to give yourself a salary."

She walked fully out of the shadows and took the letter from my hand. After reading it, she folded it up and out it in her pocket.

"I'm sorry, you'll have to excuse me, I had no intention of making it sound like this. I only wrote it because my friend had a bet with me that I couldn't do it. He still owes me 50 francs." The last part she said more to herself then to me. "Is there anything else you wish to discuss, monsieur?"

"Can you give me any proof that you won't do such things?"

I could hear the smirk in her voice, "My word of honor? A signed paper stating that I won't?" Slowly, I could feel the anger bubbling in my veins at her sarcasm. The girl must have seen my face turn red, for she replied, "Forgive my dry humor. If it will appease you, we could have another meeting, say, a month from now."

"A week."

"Very well, monsieur, if you insist." She then walked off into the shadows.

I sighed at what little progress I had made and the knowledge that, tonight at least, I could do no more. After putting away the piano and locking the building, I slowly walked home.

I sat in the very back of one of the darkened boxes and watched him roll the piano backstage.

I already knew that this man was sneaky from other midnight occurrences, but he wouldn't have remembered me from that. What really set me on edge though, was how he acted as if he knew something more that he wasn't letting on.

It made me very wary of him.

My mind could remember seeing him but once, but that was long ago and he couldn't have recognized me.

For sometime after he left, I sat there and contemplated his all too obvious distrust of me, but I could not wrap my mind around it. I decided that it was a puzzle that could be put off tomorrow and headed off to bed.

* * *

**Now that we've officially met the ghost, any thoughts? I do belive Erik has some.**

**If you have any questions, comments, or concerns about this chapter, story, or anything else, please leave a review.**

**Thank you**


	7. Dinning Out

"Citron tilapia avec des pétoncles sur le côté et un verre de vin rouge, s'il vous plaît."

"Et je vais avoir la soupe de potiron aux épices de saison et un verre d'eau, je vous remercie."

I handed the waiter Christine and I's menus after ordering.

"Thank you for taking me out to dinner, Erik."

"There's no need to thank me, Christine, it's always a pleasure to take you anywhere."

After having to deal with this new opera ghost for a few nights, I decided that I should take Christine out to a nice restaurant. She hadn't said anything, but it had been a while since we had done something together and I figured that I should do something nice for her after putting her aside in favor of business at the opera.

Most of the night was spent talking about trivial things, the opera, weather, new fashion trends, the person sitting next to us who was obviously wearing a toupee.

"You've been working so late these past few nights, dear. What have you been up to?"

"Nothing worth worrying yourself over, Christine, just boring paperwork that wouldn't amuse you in the slightest bit." There was no need to tell her about our resident ghost, I was dealing with her.

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Ah, look, here comes our food." The waiter then came up with our order and set the steaming hot food in front of us.

As we ate, Christine started talking about the pretty dresses she had seen while walking past Madame Papillon's Costume shop. Soon though, my mind started wandering off. It floated through yesterday's performance, to Mercier falling into the orchestra pit, all the way to last night's meeting with… Eden, Evan… no... Evangeline? Yes, that was it Evangeline. I didn't like that I couldn't find the reason of why she was haunting the opera. She had said that Nadir and she had made a bet and that was the reason that she had sent me those letters, but would she have sent me more? Would she soon start demanding money, even though she said that it was not her intention to.

"Are you listening to me?"

It took me a second to realize that Christine was still talking and that I had missed the last minute or two of our discussion. "Yes, of course, you were talking about the blue butterfly costume."

She smiled, "Yes, and it was gorgeous, covered in little jewels, but gorgeous!"

The rest of the night was spent occasionally nodding at everything Christen said while trying to keep my mind on the conversation at hand. Eventually, we ordered some mousse au chocolat for dessert then Christine headed for her flat and me for my apartment.

* * *

**A rather boring chapter Christine and Erik out for dinner. The next chapter heats up, I promise.**

**To clear things up, the person at the end of the last chapter was the new ghost musing about Erik, there was a break in there, but I don't know what happened to it.**

**Good job to those of you who went to the trobale of transalating their orders to see what they were eating.**


	8. Behind the Mask

Ah! je ris de me voir

si belle en ce miroir,

Ah! je ris de me voir

si belle en ce miroir,

Est-ce toi, Marguerite, est-ce toi?

Réponds-moi, réponds-moi,

Réponds, réponds, réponds vite!

Non! Non! ce n est plus toi!

Cest la fille d un roi;

Ce n est plus toi,

Qu on salut au passage!

Ah s il était ici!

il me voyait ainsi!

Comme une demoiselle

Il me trouverait belle, Ah!

Comme une demoiselle,  
Il me trouverait belle!

Achevons la métamorphose,

Il me tarde encor d essayer

Le bracelet it le collier!

Dieu! c est comme une main,

Qui sur mon bras se pose! ah! ah!

Ah! je ris

de me voir si belle dans ce miroir!

I sat in the farthest back row of the theater, listening to the rehearsals. Christine finished the small aria and they went on to the next one. Her voice soared throughout the opera and everyone momentarily stopped what they were doing so they could listen.

Unlike the previous contractors, I designed the auditorium so that the sound from the stage would echo and Christine would not have to strain her voice to be heard. I had also given the orchestra pit a bit more space as more room backstage for moving the larger props.

Suddenly, a movement caught my attention in the corner of my eye. Some had closed the curtain around box 5. There was nothing of it though, it was most likely the cleaning crew beginning their rounds. But there was no cleaning crew in the opera today, they had been dismissed until the beginning of the next performance. Who the blazes could be in the box? It wasn't cleaning crew, a stagehand? No, no reason for them to be in there. Perhaps it was Monsi- the ghost.

I stood up and trudged my way up there, unhappy at having to deal with this. Is this how my old managers had felt? Well, if so, for once I pitied them.

The door slowly creaked open as I pushed it. Evangeline turned around in her chair. She was, for the first time I had seen her, wearing a dress.

"Ah, bonjour monsieur Erik." She said with a happy tone. "Tea?" she gestured to the cup she was holding as well as the pot and extra teacup complete with saucer and serving spoon.

"No, thank you." She nodded her head and turned back to the stage, which she had been previously watching before I interrupted her. "May I sit?"

"Yes, please, take a seat."

I sat next to her and listened to Christine sing.

"Should we have are meeting now?"

"Meeting?"

"Yes, meeting. When I had met you on the stage, you said that you wished to meet again in a week."

"But that is tomorrow."

"Yes, but you're holding a banquet tomorrow night, remember, for Miss Daee's debut."

"How do you know about that?"

"Everyone in the opera knows, there all invited." She turned gain to look at me.

"Oh, yes. I suppose we can have our meeting now."

"Alright." There were a few moments of a very awkward silence. "Sooo, what do we talk about at these 'meetings'?"

"Your plans for the opera."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe we have already gone over this."

I gave her a withering look. "You live under the opera house and skulk in the shadows and you expect me to believe that you don't have some sinister plan?"

Her eyes became wide under her mask. "How do you know that I live under the opera?! Wait, the traps, never mind." She sighed. "You'll have to forgive me for the 'skulking in the shadows' part, there're certain reasons for that." Then, lightly, she moved her hands to touch her mask.

"You expect me to believe this charade of yours?!"

"Monsieur?"

"NO! ENOUGH! Last time we met you said we should play straight, so let's"

"I haven't the slightest clue as to what you're saying." She tried to get up out of her chair but I pinned her there.

"Don't play stupid with me! I don't know who you really are 'Evangeline', but let's find out, shall we?!" I then tore off her mask, quicker than she could react to it.

"NO!" she screamed bloody murder and grabbed the mask back from me. "I don't kill people, as a rule, but for you I might just make an exception." Then she fled from the box through a secret passage.

I was suddenly very limp. She had angered me so much that I had torn off her mask to see the face of someone from the past but—but-

"Monsieur, are you all right, we heard a commotion down on the stage."

I turned around to see Mercier standing in the doorway.

"Y-yes, I'm quite alright."

"Are you sure? You're very pale. You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"A ghost?"

"Yes, a ghost."

"I'm fine, go back to practice, Mercier."

He looked at me warily, "Alright, sir." He then closed the door.

A ghost, that's what I had seen, a ghost. I was expecting to see a face from the past. But not that face from the past. Not my face from the past.

I sat there for a few moments, trying to take in and believe what I had seen. Christine came up during her break. "Are you all right, Erik?"

"Yes, but I'm afraid I won't be able to escort you home tonight, there someone I need to see."

* * *

**You all saw that coming from a mile away, but apperently Erik is rather blind when it comes to things like that.**

**I love all of your guesses, it makes me rethink some part of my plot.**

**If you have any questions, comments, or concernes about this chapter, story, or anything else, please leave a review.**

**Thank you.**


	9. After the Unmasking

I took deep breaths while trying to focus on the budget list in front of me. It was very hard to focus on anything after my encounter with Evangeline.

In hindsight, I really should have made the connection beforehand. My face disappears and suddenly a person with a mask shows up. I'm losing my edge!

I tried to snap out of my small reverie and go back to my paperwork.

Her reaction to her unmasking ran through my head relentlessly. It had not been the ugliness of her face that kept me distracted as much as the shock that her face was really my face. But I couldn't deny that the ugliness had nothing to do with it. When I was still the owner of that face, I never looked in any mirror and distanced myself from it as much as I could. So when I saw the face suddenly, without warning and with angry fire practically spewing from its eyes was terrifying. Suddenly, I felt rather bad for Christine when she had once unmasked me.

I set down my pen. It was useless trying to do anything with that matter still unresolved. I made my end of day rounds and locked up before heading to box 5.

I knocked and waited for an answer. After waiting there with no response for a few minutes, I ventured in.

Everything was as I had left it. All was in order except a chair that had been over turned in Evangeline's hasty escape and her tea, which was quite cold at this point.

I picked up the tray the tea set was on and walked over to the pillar that Evangeline had seemingly fled through. Sometime was spent searching for a hidden catch and just before I was about to give up, the hidden door gently opened.

I stepped through the ominous opening and closed it behind me.

The space between the walls was dark and rather dreary, just as it had been so long ago when the opera was under my reign. Many things were the same as they had been back then. Bigger, more obvious things had changed, like my face, who Christine's suitor was, the building of the opera house, etc. But some things remained the same, Mercier was still the stage manager, the operas themselves never changed, and the girls of the corps de ballet are just as gullible and coquettish as ever. They were small things, but it helped to give some sort of normality to my life.

**SNAP!**

I jumped back, just mere seconds from my body being cut in two. I hadn't been looking where I was going and I had accidentally set off a trap.

I continued on my journey, a trifle more carefully, until I arrived in the second cellar. It ended in a small room that was rather dark and I couldn't see anything.

A deep sigh sounded behind me and I turned around. There stood Evangeline, leaning against the wall. She had a look on her face that I could not identify, though if I had to take a guess of what is was, I would say it was hesitant and distrusting.

"Monsieur?" was all she said.

"Mademoiselle Evangeline."

Then an awkward silence descended on us.

"Evangeline pushed herself off the wall and slowly walked over to me. "Why are you here?" she looked warily at me.

"I came to say sorry." It took a blow to my pride to say that, but I looked back to my unmasking and decided that I would have wanted that said to me more than anything.

Evangeline looked surprised and I handed her the tea tray as a peace offering. She looked at me, then the tea, then back at me. "What?"

"I came to say sorry, for pulling off your mask."

A look of shock came to her eyes. She composed herself, then made a motion to follow her.


	10. The Mind Behind the Face

I watched him sit at his desk and uselessly stare at his paperwork.

When he had taken off my mask, I was so angry and scared. Nothing good ever happened when my mask comes off. I fled down the cellars until I could not walk any more. Tears overcame me and I collapsed on the floor. Sometime passed with me just crying. But, as always, I had to put my mask back on and go about my life as if nothing had gone wrong. There is no use crying over spilt milk as my mother would say. No matter how much I cried over it, my situation would never change, my face would never change.

When I composed myself, I went back upstairs.

Box 5 was empty, so I checked his office and found **him** working.

And that is where I was now, watching him fail to focus on the work in front of him. Soon, though, he sighed and put his work away for the day. I followed him within the walls as he said goodnight and goodbye to various staff members then locked the building up for the day. When these obligatory tasks were done, he returned to Box 5. This I could not fathom. If he didn't want to want to see me, as he surly must feel after seeing my face, then why did he return to the place where the melodramatics occurred?

He looked around the box, perhaps checking for malformed ghosts, before he grabbed my tea tray, which I had neglected to collect. Then he walked to the pillar I had earlier fled through.

He roved his hands around the pillar, looking for something.

He couldn't possibly be looking for- for an entrance, was he?

When this thought occurred to me, I raced down to my home to prepare for whatever onslaught he had planned for me.

Many minutes passed, but he soon appeared in the room outside my home. When he came into view, I gently tightened my grip on the throwing daggers that I always kept on my person. Yes, it was suspicious for a person to have throwing knives in the first place, but my years in the Persian Court attested to how a person should never be without them.

The man, Erik if I remembered correctly, looked around, looking for another staircase to go down.

I sighed as I closed the door behind him.

He turned around to look at me warily.

"Monsieur?"

"Mademoiselle Evangeline."

Then there was an awkward silence.

I needed to know what he came down here for; I needed to know why he was seeking me out. No one looks at my face then comes running back.

I pushed myself off the wall I was leaning on and walked over to him. "Why are you here?"

He looked at me. He had a look in his eyes the made him look like a child that had been caught looting the cookie jar. "I came to say sorry." Then he looked as if his pride was greatly diminished.

I staggered back a bit. I-I couldn't have heard that right. "W-What?"

"I came to say sorry, for pulling off your mask."

My consciousness was taking a minute to process what he had just said. Many people had pulled off my mask, but none had ever said that they were to blame. Each one had decided that it was my fault that I was ugly, and because I was ugly, they would punish me one way or another.

This man was the first one to say that he was at fault. Why? What did he know that the others hadn't? This warranted a further look into the situation.

I beckoned him forward and escorted him to my home.


	11. Conversational Wine

Evangeline silently beckoned me forward and walked to the wall opposite the stairwell I had come down.

She walked to the wall and pulled an object out of her pocket. It was long and straight with jagged edges, it was a key. Evangeline lightly tapped the wall in front of her face, then a hole popped out next to her. Slowly, she inserted the key and turned it. Then the wall swung open to reveal a common opening hall to a house, complete with coat and shoe racks.

"Please take off your shoes, I just swept yesterday. You may hang your coat up if you wish." Evangeline said as she took the tea tray from me.

I complied with her request, taking my new shoes off but choosing to leave my thin jacket on, before following her out of the hall.

She opened another door to a sparsely furnished living room. There was a large bookcase that held a few books, a fireplace was blazing before a small rocking chair, and in the corner sat a small loveseat with an end table next to it.

"Wait here." She said, and then disappeared behind another door.

There was little to distract me in the room, it was rather plain and not too many books graced the shelves of the antique bookcase. Perhaps the only thing that was overly appealing was the warm fire that blazed n the stone hearth, it felt wonderful against the cold air of the second cellar and the cold air outside of the opera. The days of fall are slowly slipping away to what was shaping up to be an exceedingly cold winter.

Evangeline soon returned with a different try, this one had a freshly opened bottle of wine with two wine glasses. She had also changed her clothes. Now she was no longer wearing stagehands attire, but a simply grey house dress. Also, she had changed her mask from a porcelain one to leather, which I remember being both lighter and more comfortable to wear.

She sat next to me on the small loveseat and poured wine into both glasses.

"Merci." I said as I took the glass and started sipping its contents.

"No trouble at all, monsieur." She said picking up her own glass.

Then silence descended on us, as it so often did. We had only met but a few times, but it seems as if we already had certain things wordlessly established between us, a brief silence before getting to the subject, a common civility that would not normally occur in a situation of this sort.

"Another glass?"

"Yes please." I said as I handed her my now empty wine glass. She quickly refilled it and handed it back.

"Thank you."

"No, monsieur. Thank you."

"What for?" I asked. I didn't know what to expect when I entered her house. Goodness knows that I would not have even begun to entertain the thought of letting someone into my house on such light terms. Yes, Nadir accompanied by Darius would make the occasional visit to my home, but those visits were avoided, exceedingly annoying, and were more akin to a parent coming to visit a rouge child out of necessity and obligation. There had also been Christine, but that had been vastly different.

"Well, I suppose thank you for letting me stay and reside in the opera house, even though you were unaware of that fact until recently."

I snorted as I tried to hold back a sarcastic laugh while Evangeline refilled both of our glasses. I had been quite shocked to find a letter from the 'Opera Ghost' sitting on my desk. Looking back, I'm surprised that I had not died of a heart attack then and there.

"I would also like to give my deepest apology about frightening you with those letters. It was not my intention in the first place to frighten you and assume a façade of ill will and dubious plans. I would love to just remain here unobtrusive. I quite like the little house that I've made for myself here and I would never forgive myself I found myself evicted out of it because of a silly little joke that was schemed up in a bet."

I nodded into my empty glass. "Yes, quite a silly little joke." I murmured to myself.

"Let me refill that for you. Oh my, it seems as if we've downed the last of it. I will be right back with more." She said with civil politeness, then left the room with the tray.

. . .

I searched the small rack of wines that I kept in my kitchen for a good vintage. As a principle, I did not drink alcohol in any form, but I deemed this one of the few situations where alcohol would help.

One could obviously tell that this man was someone who kept his secrets closely guarded. He was not about to tell you his life story at the drop of a hat, so to gain answers I contrived to loosen him up with a few glasses. He seemed, though, to be downing glass after glass with great resiliency, so much so, that I had to be careful that I did not have a drunk man to deal with.

I uncorked my selection and brought it back to Erik, who ungrudgingly began to down the new bottle.

"Erik?"

"Yes?"

"Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?"

He shook his head in response.

I took a moment to think of how I wanted to phrase my question. After a small debate with myself, I decided that I should just ask him my questions outright instead if beating around the bush. He had consumed so much alcohol that I would be greatly surprised if he remembered tonight at all.

"Why do you think that I intended to blackmail you when you received my letters?"

"Because that's what I did. More please." He held out his glass to be served.

He has black mailed people? Either that or he had too much to drink.

"Sorry, there is no more." I said and took the bottle back to the kitchen. I put the cork back on the partially filled bottle and went back to the living room where Erik was sobbing quietly. I could now tell that the man was quite drunk. It had been hard to judge when the alcohol had completely taken effect because he had been so quiet for the past few minutes, then again, he had practically drank a full bottle of wine by himself.

Just before I sat down next to him, he lunged at me and tore off my mask. That was the second time he had done that, which was very, **very **unnerving.

I bent down to pick up my mask and put it back on while Erik said over and over again, "It's my face. It's my face. It's my face."

"What is 'your face'?" I asked him with both curiosity and wariness.

"This!" he said, grabbing my face before I could put my mask back on. "It's Erik's face! It has come back to haunt him, but Erik won't let it. He won't! Erik knows its tricks and he won't let it ruin his life again!"

I pulled away from his grasp as he fell into a fit of sobs on the floor. For some reason he had started talking in third-person. As well as that, he seemed convinced that he looked like me. Nothing could be farther from the truth. He was a rather handsome man with fine sculpted features and expressive ocean blue eyes, hardly a monster at all. Suddenly, he pounced on me again.

"Erik knows needs to get his rope, he needs his punjabb lasso! But where is it? The Persian! It was he who took Erik's rope! I'll kill him along with the face!"

Now I was becoming slightly terrified, I rather wanted to keep my head attached to the rest of my body, I had become quite attached to it over the years. "Alright, Erik, come with me, I'll make the face go away." I said while tying on my mask.

He looked up at me from the floor wretchedly. "Really?"

"Yes, but you have to be a good by and come with me."

"Alright." He then followed me to my bedroom. I would have taken him to his office, but by the way he swayed as he walked showed that he wouldn't make it that far.

He slipped between the covers and dozed right off with no fuss, which certainly helped my cause. Quickly, I grabbed a nightgown from my closet and changed in the bathroom, then went up to the second level of my two story house and slept in my guest room. Before sleep took me, my mind attempted to piece together what facts had been given to me from the drunken man, but I could make neither heads nor tails of it of it before sleep came.

**Sorry, this chapter came a little *very* late. I hope you don't stop reading because of the sporadic updates. Thank you. **


	12. Angels

I was at a masquerade of some sort. I don't know how I got to go there, I don't know why I was there, I didn't even know what everyone was dressed as. They all wore dark clothing of some sort. Perhaps they wore plain dress suits, or costumes, they could have just put black sheets on their heads for all I could tell. I walked aimlessly through the shifting crowds. Then, suddenly, I saw her and remembered why I was there.

I was there for the angel.

She was wearing a beautiful and lavish white gown with small wings attached to her back. Her golden halo gleamed bright in my eyes and I found that, as hard as I tried, I could not take my eyes off of her.

I went up to her and wordlessly asked her to dance. I took her hand and led her around the ballroom in a fast and lively waltz that kept us spinning I circles.

The song came to its end and the angel rushed off into the crowd. I tried following her, but the black crowds detained me from doing so. All I could do was wander around to look for her, nut my feeble attempts were useless.

Just before I gave up hope, I saw another angel.

This one had a white gown on just as the first had, but it was plain and could not compare at the other's richly adorned dress. Her bronze halo was incomparable to the other's gold one as well. The only thing that seemed at all more glamorous then the first angel's appearance was her wings. They were big and folded a tad awkwardly into her back.

I asked this one to dance as well and she complied as a slow moving waltz began. While she twirled under my fingers, I found that I could not decide which angel was more important than the other.

When the song ended, she disappeared as well. So I wandered around amongst shadows until I saw both of them. They were standing on opposite sides of the room and they extended their hands out to me. Before I could decide which hand to take, a scream rang through the air and the angels were forced to the ground and swords were forced at their throats.

"CHOOSE!" a voice boomed.

How was I supposed to?

The black crowds gave a despairing cry for the first angel's life. If so many were in agreement that the first angel's life was more important, she must be… mustn't she? I gently removed the sword from the first one's neck and she flew to her feet. She sobbed into my shoulder. "Angel, angel! Oh, angel!" she cried.

I held onto her as she cried and I looked at the other angel who was on the ground. She looked up at me with tears in her eyes. "Erik?" I could just barely hear her whisper.

I rushed to save her, but the cold sword had already rendered her body lifeless on the floor as crimson liquid pooled around her.


	13. In tht Past

I quickly sat up in the bed, but I was dizzy and I fell back as I pain seared in my head. It was a dream. My heart was racing from it.

My head hurt more than I would ever care to admit and I closed my eyes tightly against the soft candlelight that hurt my eyes more than it should have.

"Take this." A small vial was put in my hands. I gladly took it and kept lying down until the dizziness and the pain in my head subsided. When I was finally able to open my eyes, I saw Evangeline sitting on the side of the bed I was lying on. I didn't recognize the room I was in. There was a side table with a candle that emitted a soft light and a dresser with clothes neatly folded on top. The bed was in no way opulent and in no way luxurious.

"Where am I?" I asked.

"In my room."

"Why and here did I get in here?"

"I brought you here before you passed out last night." I tried to think back to last night, but it was blurry. The clearest memory I had of last night was surveying Evangeline's living room while she went away with the tea tray.

"Why was I about to pass out?"

"You drank more wine then you thought you could handle."

"Oh." That makes sense. It would explain the symptoms I was experiencing.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I was stabbed in the head."

Evangeline smirked. "The pain will pass. But I have some questions to ask you about some things you said last night." My heart stopped when I heard that. There was an innumerable amount of embarrassing or reveling things I could have said while I was drunk. I would be fine though as long as I hadn't brought up- "You talked about my face as if it was you face." DANG IT! "You also mentioned blackmailing people and about some sort of Punjab lasso and killing Nadir."

I sighed. "You won't stop bothering me about it until I tell you, will you." It was a statement, not a question.

She smirked. "Most likely not."

"Would you mind if I first had something to eat?"

. . .

Erik was finishing the last of the modest breakfast I had made which consisted of an apple, bland porridge, and a glass of water. I silently sat across from him, choosing not to eat and waited. He looked at me over the rim of his glass before setting it down.

He sighed. "I suppose I should start at the beginning."

"I suppose so."

He was silent for a few moments, as if trying to decide where the beginning was. Then, he started.

. . .

"I use to have your face, I was born with it. I was born in a small house, in a small village in the outskirts of France. My poor mother was miserable and hated me for how I looked. She had wanted a perfect, normal child like all of the others, but instead, she had me. Before I was even born for a full day, she made me a mask that I was to wear at all time so she would not have to endure my face. We tormented each other under that roof for so long that we both driven each other to the brink of insanity. So, one night while I was still young, I ran away from that little house that was so full of misery.

"I ran in the way of a camp of gypsy people who tore off my mask and put me on dis play in their freak show. They beat and whipped me until I fainted. This went on for so many years that I lost count of how long I had been there and I often found myself longing for that house with my poor unhappy mother. I had so many scars that there was more scarred flesh on my body then unbroken skin. One night, I had had enough of it. I was tired of being beaten and treated like an animal, so when the master of the show came into my cage I killed him. Then I ran away from there as fast as my legs could carry me and I never once looked back on that night or regretted it.

"For a few years after that, I wandered the face of Europe and Asia, perfecting my skills in architecture, music, magic, and ventriloquism among other things. From time to time I performed at fairs for money but stole and killed without any qualms.

"Soon, tales of my skills made their way to the court of Persia. I was taken there for the Shah's amusement. I was both his court magician and assassin. He paid me very well for my services, in gold and opium. It was there that I met Nadir and his faithful Darius and proceeded to drive them out of there mind and prematurely grey their hair. The years I was there, they helped me retain my sanity and when I left, they helped me escape.

"When I left Persia, I wandered again for some time but eventually came back to my native France.

"I found out that they were building the opera house and during the construction I added my own additions to it. Some things I changed above ground, but most of the work I did was confined to the fifth cellar. I built my house and planned to lived there until I died.

"During the building of my house I had indulged in my expensive tastes and I became pauperized. To remedy this, I masqueraded as a ghost in the opera, terrifying ballet girls and managers alike. I gave them the ultimatum of paying my 20,000 and giving me box 5 on the grand tier in return for safety from me. It was either this or have half of the cast killed in less than I fortnight. They decided to pay me and I lived in the upmost comfort.

"After some time I amassed a great fortune and I planned to live alone in the basements for the rest of my life. But I fell in in love with Christine Daeè and I tricked her into thinking that was an angel sent to help her and teach her music.

"One day, I took her to my home to keep her there forever. She tore off my mask and cried in horror when she beheld my face. She ran away from it with a young Viscount de Changey .

"I couldn't stand the pain that she had caused me so I fled to the rooftop and wished my face away and I passed out. When I awoke, I was a child again and my face was normal."

. . .

While I was relating my past, I watched Evangeline's face. Shock and severity mostly painted her face. I could tell when something in particular struck a chord with her because she would silently gasp or her hands would clench and unclench her glass.

When I had finished, she cast her eyes to the ground and sighed.

"What about you?" I asked.

She looked up, surprised. "Me?"

"Yes, you. You've had to deal with my face for quite some time I would guess. "

"Yes." She said quietly, almost too quiet to hear.


	14. The Scars the Past Holds

"I was born into a traveling circus called Le Carnaval des Masques. Everyone wore a mask, the magicians, clowns, dancers, even the people who worked behind the sets, so I didn't find it at all odd to wear a mask. When it was just my parents and I in our tent at night, they would encourage me to take my mask off, but I was so proud of it and its symbolism to our circus that I practically never took it off.

"My father was one of the most respected magicians in our circus. He any trick you could imagine and more, and all were of his own invention. He would teach me all he knew, but really, I was born with a violin in my hand. Most of the others in our circus thought that my ability to play so well at the age of five was another trick of my father's so they never hassled us with any questions.

"My early years were spent in this way and life was wonderful. I never suspected for a moment that I was any different than anybody else except for how fast I was maturing in my intellect and music.

"This phase of my life ended when I was about six. Some other kids from the circus and I were sitting by a lake that our fair had settled not too far away from. They had taken off their masks and urged me to do the same. I had never taken my mask off for anyone except my parents and I felt embarrassed at the thought. But it was a hot day and I couldn't help but think about how nice a fresh breeze would feel on my face, so I did as they suggested.

"For as long as I live, I will never forget those screams of absolute terror. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me back to my family's tent. I thought they were screaming about some monster and I cried in my parent's arms. I told them what happened and no sooner had I finished my story did they start packing up our things. In my childish innocents, I though as we left the camp, that we were fleeing from the monster, but in reality, we were fleeing from the scared and angry hordes of people that would attack us if they ever again saw my face again.

"We settled down again in a small house, miles away from any other people in the countryside. It was there that I learned about my face. It was a hard and depressing time, those first few months, but my parents helped me through it.

"Because we were so far away from any towns, my father had to leave us for months at a time so he could find work and support us. All little girls think the world of their fathers and it hurt me so much when he would have to leave, but he would always send me letters. When he did come home, he would always give me little gifts.

"My mother was depressed when my father had to leave and she would mope around the house. I would cook meals for us and clean while she longingly looked out a window. When I complained about the work, she would chide me for acting as if I had the hardest job in the world and then pick up the work for the rest of the day, but the next day she would slip back into her neglectful state. The times when dad was home, she would come alive and fawn over him. I would never tell him about the times he wasn't home for fear of unsetting those happy times.

"We had been in that home for six years and I had turned 12 when my world shattered into millions of diamond that were fractured beyond all repair.

"Dad had been away for seven months which as substantially longer than usual. We were both worried about him, but we never talked about it because we didn't want to face the possibility of what might have happened to him. One day, a man came to our door, telling us that my father had gotten into a fight with a man and had been killed. I refused to accept it, telling him that he must be wrong and that my father was not the type of person to wantonly get into a fight. He gave us his condolences, then left.

"Mother was even more distance after that, nothing I said could pull her from her self-pity and misery.

"To support us, I would take up to a full days walk to the nearest road. I would perform magic tricks and sing to travelers and they would toss coins at me. Sometimes I would have to take a week's long journey on foot to the nearest town to buy food and supplies. I was loath to take these trips and leave my mother alone in the house, but I had to.

"One night, when I was home, lying in my bed, unable to fall asleep, when I heard someone moving about downstairs. When I went downstairs I found mother going out the door out the door in only her nightgown.

"'Mamma!' I shouted at her. She turned to look at me and told me to go back to sleep before again venturing out the door. I silently followed her through the fields of untamed wheat until we came to a lake. She went in, but I stayed on the shore because I didn't know how to swim. Further and deeper in she went and I called out to her. All I could do was watch as she drowned herself. Do you know what it's like to just watch helplessly as a loved one dies? It's a horrible feeling that I person should never have to endure.

"I cried awhile, I don't know how long it was, but I eventually picked myself up and dragged my tired feet back to the house.

"I couldn't stay there any longer, I just couldn't. There were too many memories, both good and bad. I took the money box and what little was in it, I packed one of my father's suitcases clothes and mementos of him. Also, I filled a knapsack with food and set off.

"I traveled Europe for some time, performing tricks and singing, but tales of my performances far to the Persian court. Nadir was sent to collect me and bring me the court for the pleasure of the shah. I went with the man with me compunctions, after all, there was nothing left for me anywhere else. We traveled the distance to Persia on land because I refused to go by sea do to my recently found fear of water. It annoyed Nadir quite a bit but he complied, seeing that I would not come with him any other way.

"As we traveled, I entertained the small caravan with me talents, as it felt like I had been doing so my whole life, and at night returned to my tent. Sometimes Nadir would come into my tent and we would take afternoon tea together. I'm not quite sure what I thought of him before we talked at these informal meetings, but I found that he was a man with high moral standards and had keen perspective of people. I enjoyed our talks, we had the ability to make each other laugh and forget about the problems on our mind. I think he took pity on me for having all my troubles befall me and hardly be 14, and in some ways, he became a sort of parental figure. When we eventually made it to the Persian court, I barely had time to sleep, let alone carry on the friendship that Nadir and I were starting to build.

"I had been there about a year when I had to attend a ball at the court. I cautiously started a conversation with Nadir and it felt like we had never stopped talking at all. It calmed me and it felt like a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders. We talked for some time but I was called off to entertain guests.

"Towards the end of the party I was so tired from the demands for novelty b the party goers and I sat down with a cup of wine in my hand and passed out.

"When I again woke up, I was chained to a wall, very battered and bruised with an annoyed Nadir and Darius, who looked as if they gotten the worst of it in fight, standing in front of me. I had no idea about what had happened and I asked them why I was chained on the wall. They looked surprised, but at length they told me what had happened.

"At the night of the Shah's party, I was drugged. A servant came near me and I killed him for nothing more than simply walking in my way. I was given a drug that heightened and swelled my anger of all proportions. When the Shah saw this, he used me for any assassination and all of the twisted and cruel deeds that he didn't want to stain his hands with. He liked this darker side of me and constantly fed me this drug in my food and drinks.

"I had been totally unconscious of the world for a full year, killing innocents. Nadir knew that something was wrong with me and that I would never do something like that under normal circumstances, so he shackled me up on the wall, fighting tooth and nail, until the drug worked its way out of my system.

"After that, I thanked Nadir and Darius for their help and vowed never to kill again. Then I hoped on a horse and rode off. Of course as soon as the Shah found out he sent people after me, including Nadir and Darius. The two of them caught up with me first. I didn't fear what would happen if anybody caught up with me, although I knew I would either die or be brought back as a slave, but the two of them ran away with me.

"When we were finally out of Asia, we went our separate ways. I returned to my empty house. Robbers had picked it clean of anything of value, which wasn't much. Wallpaper had already begun peeling off the wall and I went upstairs to my room. My dolls and toys were ripped apart and strew everywhere. My parent's room across the hall was in much the same state of disarray. I climbed into their bed, trying to imagine that I was five again, back to when my parents were alive and life was perfect. That night, I am unashamed to say, cried myself to sleep.

"I awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of someone shuffling around downstairs. I had the most horrible feeling of dread of the past reliving itself. Slowly, I stalked downstairs, deciding that I would break my vow of killing for this one person who dared disturbed this house so full of memories.

"I reached the bottom of the stairs and was about to sink my throwing daggers into the intruders back. But then he turned around.

"It was my father.

"He had grown a beard on his usually clean shaven face and his body was hunched over as if from hard labor.

"'Evangeline?' he asked

"That one word had the power to undo me. I dropped my daggers and collapsed in the floor as I started to weep. He made his way slowly towards me. I flew to my feet and cried in his arms. Eventually, he asked me what had happened to the house and where my mother was. It took a while, but I related the tale of the messenger and how he told us that he had died and mother's suicide. But I couldn't stop there, I told him from that point on to Persia, to the present moment. We both cried for a bit and he apologized for not being there for me. He told me that he had seen a drunken man harassing a woman so he intervened. The other man started a fight with him and my dad fought back in self-defense. Eventually, the drunken man slipped and fell on the concrete where his head cracked open and he died. A police man showed up at the last moment and only saw the death of the drunken man, after which, he threw my father in jail. Father concluded that the postal serves must have sent us the wrong letter. Father was sent to jail and only recently been released.

"We spent the night in the house and in the morning we traveled to France. There, we rented an apartment. I also learned of the building of the opera house. My father had always told me that one day he would take me to see an opera, but we were always too poor to by the cheapest of tickets. So when they were building to opera house I slipped plans for my own house into the mix with the actual plans for the opera. I was checking on the progress one night when I saw someone messing with the plans. I stayed in the dark and watched them while they shuffled through the papers and slipping his own within the mix. He was an average boy with handsome features and intelligent eyes. Soon though, he went away.

"When the opera house was finished, I retired here while my father stayed in our old apartment. He often asked me where I went and if he could go with me, but I would always decline and refuse to give him answers.

"During the first month of the opera, I stumbled upon Nadir and Darius buying season tickets. I frightened them half to death when I seemed to walk straight out of the wall."

. . .

"And now you know." She said.

I was silent during her story and I was surprised at the end when she told about seeing me.

"You should be heading back up soon." She said, getting up from the table and clearing the dishes.

**This chapter took some time of rearranging until I was happy with it. How was it? Too sad, happy, off? Please critique me, I'm always trying to find ways to make myself a better writer. Edit: Forgot to say that the idea for mother's suicide was a conglomerate of the scenes in Saving Mr. Banks and from the adaption of The Phantom of the Opera with Charles Dance. Thank you. **


	15. The Story of the Opera Ghost

Christine pouted as I lectured her about trying to sing while she had a cold.

"But I still sound perfectly fine." She argued petulantly.

"Yes, perhaps, but your vocal chords will suffer immensely and you will lose your ability to sound clear while in the upper register."

"Please, Erik." She widened her eyes and looked on the verge of tears.

"No."

"Bu-"

"No." and the suddenly I had a brilliant idea. "At least I wouldn't if I were you."

"And why not?"

"Because the Opera Ghost will come after you."

"The Opera Ghost?" she asked, her voice getting softer.

"Oh, yes. Her husband was one of the men who helped build the opera. But her husband was unfaithful to her and one night she threw herself off the scaffolding when she saw him with another woman. Now she haunts the opera, killing couples who are unfaithful to each other and singers that don't sound good because they remind her of her unfaithful husband's other women."

Christine gasped. "Really?!"

"Yes, really. She just recently demanded Box 5 for all performances and an allowance."

Her eyes widened even bigger then I imagine eyes could. "Then I most certainly can't sing like this! I've got to go tell Monsieur Mercier to hire a replacement for me this next week. Oh, I'll have to tell Meg about this as well! If you will excuse me Erik." She then ran off to spread my little white lie and hire a replacement. I chuckled to myself as I walked back to my office, wondering what Evangeline thought of my newly concocted rumor.

I unlocked my office door to find Evangeline sitting there with an incredulous look on her face.

She raised an eyebrow at me "Opera Ghost?"

"I was one once so it's not all that hard to imagine."

I'm sure she had a small smile going behind her mask and she shook her head. "You're not really going to rent out Box 5, are you?"

"Of course I am."

"And what are you going to do with it and this 'allowance' that I've apparently demanded of you?"

"Give it to you of course. But I'm afraid you'll have to settle for 5,000 francs a month. 20,000 was really ludicrous." Evangeline looked at me like I was crazy, which, I suppose, was not totally unjustified. "Can you wait until next month for your allowance?"

She still didn't say anything.

"If you'll excuse me, I promised to take Christine to dinner and an opera at another theater." Then I walked out.

. . .

My mind stopped working for a few seconds while trying to decipher if that conversation had actually happened. When my mind came back to reality Erik was already gone.

Why would he give me Box 5 and a salary to the loss of the opera house? In the beginning, he had thought that I was trying to extort money from him, perhaps that was why. If that was it, it would give me another excuse to visit him again. I've found that I don't mind him as much as I thought I would. He was kind in his own way, and he really did feel remorse for accidentally passing on his facial qualities.

It was nothing more than an interest about him that I wanted to see him again. That's what I told myself as I left a letter on his desk, inviting him to dinner at my house tomorrow night.


	16. Preparations

I chopped Basil while the pasta boiled. Nadir had invited himself over before dinner began and decided to sit and pester me while eating my food.

"So?"

"So what?" I asked while trying to concentrate on not cutting my fingers off.

"What is all this preparation for? I know it certainly isn't for me." He said while popping another baby tomato in his mouth.

"Your right, it isn't for you." I took the bowl out of his reach. "It's for a friend I invited."

"A friend?"

"Yes, a friend, I'm allowed to have them."

"So, in other words, monsieur Destler, the only other person who has been down here."

I faltered for a second in what I was doing and that was enough for him to know the answer. "I left him an invitation on his desk and I presumed that he has excepted science he has not told me no."

"But he has not told you yes either."

I faulted again as he sat back in his chair thoughtfully. It was true that he had not accepted, but also had not declined. I didn't think of the possibility that he wouldn't accept. He had to though, I wanted to know more about him. He was well versed in music and the arts in general. Also, he was kind and didn't mind my appearance and continued to visit me.

"But that doesn't make sense." Nadir said more to himself then to me. "I thought he was courting Mademoiselle Daeè, not you."

"Ouch!" I ran to the sink to wash my cut. Nadir's remark had caught me off guard and I hadn't been looking at what I was doing. Erik, courting me, what an idea!? Quicker then a blink of an eye, an image flashed unbidden across my mind.

. . .

Erik was in a dress suit and had a mask like mine on his face. I was wearing an angel costume that was nowhere as glamorous and splendid as that of another girl's that was there. She and Erik were dancing across the floor and everyone watched them in amazement. She left him and walked past me. I felt so inadequate compared to the other angel's graceful appearance. Her costume fit to her thin figure perfectly and her golden crown was glorious. My ill-fitting dress was too big and my big, awkward, and clunky. I ran to get away from her. I wasn't looking where I was going and I ran into Erik. Silently, we started dancing across the floor and everything seemed to melt away. In the background, I could hear the music start to fade and our dance started to slow. Reluctantly, I disengaged our dance, but before I could leave, he pulled me back to him and our lips touched.

. . .

"Evangeline? … Evangeline!" Nadir was shaking me. I was annoyed that he had ended my little daydream before it ended.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing." He said with a small smile. I went fetch a bandage while he kept talking. "So you are courting him?"

"No! Where do you get these ridiculous notions of yours? He's courting Miss Daeè. Honestly, Nadir!"

"But you wish he was courting you."

"N-no. Of course not! And even if I did, why would anyone, much less him, agree to court me? You've seen my face and know my past."

Well, I'm going to go take tea then. Perhaps I'll take it with your father, It's been awhile since I've seen him and we have so many new … developments to discuss." He said as he started to slowly back up towards the door.

"You wouldn't dare." I told his as I started chasing after him.

I ran after him to the door and as soon as I ran out I slammed into someone's chest. It was much too tall to be Nadir's and there was only one other person who knew how to get down here.

I looked up and was face to face with Erik. He had his hands on my waist to steady me and my arms had wrapped themselves around his middle.

"Have a nice night you two." Nadir said with a malicious grin and walked up the stairs.

"I am going to kill him." I said under my breath. Erik's chest rumbled as he chuckled and I was glad that I was wearing my mask so he could not see me blush. Hastily, I detached myself from him and found that I missed the warmth his body radiated.

"Umm… Dinner is almost ready, if you care to join me." I was going to open the door for him, but he beat me to it and I couldn't help but feel a little flutter in my stomach. Then I shook my head. I was only thinking these things because Nadir put them in my head. After fruitlessly trying to shake these thoughts from my head, I showed Erik to the dinner table.


	17. To Dinner

"I'm sorry, Christine, I have some work that I need to do tonight."

"But Erik, please."

"No Christine." Christine wanted me to walk her home, but Evangeline had invited me to dinner and I knew that having someone to talk to while down in the cellars was a welcome relief from the oppressive solitude. A knock was heard at the door and we looked up to see an older man walk in. He had a cane and was bent over it heavily as he walked. His eyes and his cheery grin seemed to defy the agedness of his body.

"Is this the manager's office?" he asked.

"Yes, it is." I turned to Christine. "I have someone I need to attend to. You walk yourself home tonight and I'll escort you here in the morning."

"I can wait. I didn't mean to intrude, monsieur." said the old man.

"It's alright." Christine returned, grabbing her purse. "But I expect you to pick me up bright and early tomorrow and buy me breakfast too." She quickly kissed me on my cheek and left.

I turned my attention to the man, wanting to help him quickly and not miss my appointment with Evangeline. "Good evening, monsieur. I'm the manager, Erik Destler. What can I help you with?"

"Nice to meet you, my name is Gerard Molleur. I came to inquire about me daughter."

I pulled out a large container filled with records and started to search for the surname Molleur. After a few minutes of searching I found nothing. "Are you sure she works here monsieur?"

"I believe she works here. She comes here all the time. She keeps to herself. She's wonderful at singing as well as a virtuoso on many instruments. She also... um ..."

It seemed like he was trying to figure out what to say with giving out too much information. I tried to think of any girls in our chorus who matched his vague description. Keeps to herself….musically inclined…most likely works here. Then it dawned on me. "And wears a mask?"

His eyes lit up in excitement. "Yes!"

I took a second to look over the older man again, trying to find similarities between him and his daughter. "Evangeline does work here, in a manner of speaking. Why do you ask, sir?"

"She hasn't been telling me why she comes here or what she does when she comes here. I need to know."

He seemed scared and hesitant, but determined. But if Evangeline had wanted him to know where she was, she would have told him. "I'm sorry, sir, but it's not my secret to tell."

He nodded his head. "I understand." He backed away a little bit then looked back at me again. "Can you at least tell me is she is okay."

I looked him in the eye and saw that he really was concerned about his daughter. She's fine monsieur. I visit her often and can truthfully say that she is a very beautiful and intelligent girl who is very helpful around the opera."

He looked at me with what seemed to be a knowing smile. "I see." He said with a tone I really couldn't place. "That's good. Thank you." He then left with a slow and wearied walk. A first he had seemed a bit let down at not being able to find out about his daughter, but at the end he had seemed a bit happier after I told him about Evangeline. I almost ran out after him, but I took a breath and stopped. Evangeline would tell him if she wanted to.

I picked up my things and started on the short trek to Evangeline's house. I wondered what her father had meant when he had said 'I see'. My mind just couldn't wrap itself around the hidden meaning in it. So I spent the rest of the small walk thinking about Evangeline. She really was a bright girl and dealt with my deformity much better than I had. She was composed and didn't kill people wantonly. In fact, it was quite the opposite, she didn't like killing, what had she said 'I don't kill people, as a rule,'. Evangeline really was a fine woman.

I had finally reached Evangeline's door when Nadir suddenly shot out of it and just narrowly avoided colliding with me. Then the door opened again and this time someone did collide with me. They slammed into my chest and wrapped their arms around me and tried to steady them by holding them by their waist. I looked down and saw Evangeline looking up at me.

"Have a nice night you two." Nadir said from somewhere behind me.

"I'm going to kill him." Evangeline said under her breath, looking after him.

I chuckled. She could be fiery if she wanted to though.

She looked up at me with surprise. Around the corners of her face, by her mouth and eyes, where the mask didn't quite reach, her face turned bright red. Was she blushing?

Evangeline pushed herself off of me and my hands felt exceedingly empty as I let go. "Um…Dinner is almost ready, if you care to join me." She went to go open the door for me, but I tried to be a gentleman and opened the door for her. "Thank you." She said softly and we walked inside.


End file.
